SingingFrogPress

We who are the fruit of every forgotten effort

      Let “…the angel of death/dance before you”*

We who are the fruit of every
forgotten effort, who are so many years
beyond the last breaths of our mothers
and our fathers—Let us remember

to press flat our hands, palms
creased with unspeakable alphabets
against rough bark of spruce tree,
maple, magnolia.  Whisper

to every sleeping bud, our boots
half buried in new fallen snow,
these promises—World to come,
World hauled back from deep

silences of every Never-Ending Before,
Help us know this—we are the fruit
of every forgotten effort:

Blessed be the fruits.
Bless and Be.
                                    2/24-25/23
 *“Berakhot 51,” Hillel Broder, Daily Blessings: poems on Tractate Berakhot, p.64
             https://www.benyehudapress.com/books/daily-blessings/

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